


Pre-Game

by Skylark



Series: SASO 2017 [5]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Akashi gets his own tag, Breathplay, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Facials, Locker Room Sex, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Orgy, Rough Oral Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Teikou Era, Unsafe Sex, light humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 05:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylark/pseuds/Skylark
Summary: "No fair," Murasakibara says in his low, slow drawl. "Mine-chin got a blowjob. I want one too."One by one, all eyes turn to Akashi."Yes," he agrees, his expression distant. "It would improve team morale if everyone received one."





	Pre-Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wildcard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wildcard/gifts).



> [Original Prompt:](http://saso-afterhours.dreamwidth.org/7825.html) "Kise sucks Aomine off before games to help Aomine be motivated/concentrate. Then Murasakibara decides he wants special treatment too and somehow Kise ends up servicing the entire team. And it turns into a tradition."
> 
> So many people helped me with KnB accuracy in this fic, shoutouts to Yrindor and Rosebrook especially, thank you tlist ;;
> 
> Kuroko is not in this fic because I straight up forgot he existed until I had already finished writing it. PHANTOM SIXTH MAN STRIKES AGAIN

"You did better during this game, Daiki," Akashi observes, and Kise trips and nearly falls.

"Be careful," Midorima scolds as Kise catches his balance; then, "Are you feeling all right? Your face is quite red."

"I'm fine," Kise mutters, before finding the opposite wall suddenly fascinating.

Akashi watches this exchange with narrowing eyes. Then he glances at Aomine, whose relaxed saunter hasn't changed, but whose expression is now one of very forced nonchalance.

"Daiki," Akashi says. His tone is gentle but no less of a warning for that. Kise makes a strangled noise and turns redder, if possible.

Aomine glances at Kise, who's still refusing to look at anyone, and then at Akashi's placid stare. He scowls and shoves his hands further into his pockets, saying nothing.

"If you've made some new discovery that improves your performance, it might prove beneficial to the team at large. Don't withhold information, Daiki." The shift in Akashi's tone is subtle, but it's still enough to make Aomine flinch.

Aomine hunches his shoulders and mutters, "He gave me a blowjob, okay."

"He _what?_ " Midorima yelps. Murasakibara finally glances up from his bag of chips. Kise gives a small wail and covers his face.

"Before the match." A blush is slowly creeping into his face despite his dark complexion and his irritated expression. "He sucked me off in the bathroom."

"That's _disgusting._ " Midorima snaps, but before Kise can wilt, he continues: "In the _bathroom?_ What an unsanitary location. If you're going to do it again, pick somewhere cleaner."

" _That's_ what you care about?" Kise groans, his voice muffled by his hands.

"No fair," Murasakibara says in his low, slow drawl. "Mine-chin got a blowjob. I want one too."

The group falls into a sudden silence. One by one, all eyes turn to Akashi.

He seems to consider it for a few moments. In the pause, Kise's hands lower from his face. "Yes," he says, his expression distant. "It would improve team morale if everyone received one."

Kise's eyes are huge. "Are you _serious?_ "

"Before the match, though?" Midorima says, frowning. "Wouldn't that cut into our preparation time?"

Akashi slowly lifts his eyes to meet Midorima's, saying nothing until Midorima's forced to look away. "Forgive me," he mutters. "If it's what you think is best."

"Yay," Murasakibara says, contentedly munching on another chip. "Blowjobs for everyone."

\--

Kise starts with Aomine first, because that's familiar territory. He kneels on a towel (Midorima insisted) between Aomine's spread legs, and then hesitates.

"Do you really all have to stare like that?" Kise says. His fingertips push up the edges of Aomine's basketball shorts to rest on his bared thighs. 

Midorima coughs and pulls out a book. The others, however, continue to stare. "Me next," Murasakibara says.

"You're used to receiving attention," Akashi points out.

"Not like _this._ " 

"Hurry up, please," Midorima mutters, his gaze riveted on the book's open page. "We only have an hour before the game begins."

Kise looks up at Aomine, who bounces his legs beneath Kise's hands. "Just pretend they're not there," he says.

"Easy for you to say."

"They're watching me, too," Aomine says, his voice dropping low so only Kise can hear him. They look at each other for another moment, coming to a sort of wordless understanding, before Kise reaches up and tugs his basketball shorts down.

The feel of Aomine's dick in his hands, warm and soft-skinned, is kind of comforting. He's not hard, so Kise is able to fit all of him in his mouth at first. His movements are gentle, working the point of his tongue beneath his foreskin. Aomine's breath hitches, and when Kise glances up he can see Aomine's hands fisting against the metal bench.

He gets hard quickly, leaving Kise to wrap his fingers around the parts the can't fit into his mouth. Aomine's not complicated; he likes lots of tongue at first and then more suction the closer he gets. He doesn't make a _lot_ of noise, but he grunts when Kise does something he particularly likes and when he comes, it's with a low, soft noise that sounds like it's pulled from somewhere deep inside him. The sound, like last time, makes Kise feel warm with accomplishment, and also fans the flames of his own arousal.

Kise fumbles for the tissue box sitting beside Aomine on the bench, grabs a tissue, and spits. The taste is weird, but he supposes he's going to have to get used to it.

He lifts his head slowly and looks at the others. Midorima is staring at his book hard enough to burn a hole through its pages. Akashi is watching him with his arms folded, one ankle resting on the opposite knee. He nods once, approving, and Kise's dick twitches in his shorts.

"That looked fun," Murasakibara says.

Kise rolls his eyes and shuffles across the floor to Murasakibara, not bothering to get up if he's just going to have to kneel again. "Can you stop eating?" he says. "You're going to get crumbs on my head."

Murasakibara heaves a huge sigh and sets his pocky aside. "Lift your hips," Kise prompts next, "so I can pull your shorts down."

"Hmph," Murasakibara says, and instead of complying just tugs the garter of his shorts down so that his dick pops out. The band snaps beneath his balls, lifting them. "That should be enough. Come on."

For a second, Kise just stares.

"What?" Murasakibara demands, sounding cranky, but Kise just. Needs a minute. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, really, but the dick bobbing in front of his face is _huge._

Kise wraps hesitant hands around it to hold it steady and then just licks it, all over it, kittenish tiny licks interspersed with long, languid ones. "You're treating it like a popsicle," Murasakibara mutters, but his voice has turned breathy.

Kise usually bites pieces off of his popsicles, but his mouth is too preoccupied to try and correct him. Instead he pulls away and runs both his hands up Murasakibara's dick, twisting them on the way back down, and feels a bit of accomplishment when Murasakibara's whole body tenses.

He does that for the rest of the time, focusing his mouth on the head while his hands work busily along the entire length of him. His mouth is flooded with precome and he has to swallow repeatedly to keep liquid from spilling out of his mouth; every time he does he takes as much of Murasakibara in as he can first, and feels him shudder. He's loud, too, his head tipped back on the most luxurious moans. Midorima shivers at the sound but doesn't tell him to be quiet. Aomine's pulled his dick out again and is stroking himself slowly, his eyes riveted on Kise's mouth.

Murasakibara grabs his head, shoves him down without warning, and comes. Kise chokes on it, his entire body flinching as his mouth is flooded. It spills out of the corners of his mouth, landing on the collar of his jersey; thankfully it's a home game and it should blend into the lighter uniform. When he finally fights his way free of Murasakibara's slackening grip he doubles over with coughing, making a mess on the floor.

Midorima starts to rise from the bench, but he freezes when Akashi holds up a hand. Still, he can't stop himself from asking, "Are you all right?"

"He can continue," Akashi says.

Kise nods, rubbing at his sore throat. "I just—need a minute," he gasps.

The room is almost-silent except for the syncopated rhythm of Kise and Murasakibara's slowing breaths. Kise glances up at Aomine, whose expression is mostly neutral except for a telltale worried wrinkle in his brow. Kise nods at him, _I'm okay,_ and the wrinkle disappears.

"Who's next?" Kise says.

"Shintarou," Akashi replies. Midorima looks startled, and then nervous.

"You don't have t—" he says, but a glance from Akashi stills his tongue. "Well. If you really don't mind," he says, starting to fidget. The blush on his face makes his green eyes even more piercing than usual.

Kise wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand and then crawls over to Midorima. The towel is starting to leave marks into his knees as he settles into a more comfortable position.

"Have you ever done this before?" Kise asks. 

"N-no." Midorima's head bows in what Kise assumes is shame for his lack of experience. "...Please take care of me."

When Kise pulls Midorima free of his pants, he's achingly, punishingly hard. Kise's eyelashes flutter and Midorima turns his head away.

"You don't have to look," Midorima mumbles.

"Why not? It's pretty," Kise says, and leans forward to kiss the tip. It jumps in his hands. "You have a pretty dick, Midorimacchi."

"Please don't say that," Midorima mutters, but he can't stop himself from peeking at Kise out of the corner of his eye. 

Kise goes gently with him, taking as much time as he can, pleased by the slow acceleration of Midorima's breaths. He glances up at him often until Midorima loses the ability to even pretend he's not staring, transfixed by the sight of Kise's wet lips wrapped around him. He reaches up to readjust his glasses, but he misses the bridge and leaves a smudge against the lens. Midorima frowns, but before he can attempt to fix it Kise runs his tongue around the edges of his crown and he gasps, his hands flying to clutch the edge of the bench as if he might fall.

"Kise, please," Midorima says in a quiet, strained voice. "I'm about to—"

Kise hums, his eyes going heavy-lidded, and Midorima's whole body trembles. _"Please,"_ Midorima repeats, "I don't want to choke you."

Kise responds by picking up the pace, just to hear Midorima's startled gasp. He curls forward—"Oh, oh, _oh—_ " and Kise rears back when Midorima starts to come and gets it full in the face.

Kise smiles a little and licks his lips. He's definitely gotten used to the taste by now. 

Inversely, Midorima looks horrified by the mess he's made. He fumbles through his bag, pulls out a handkerchief, and gently dabs at Kise's face, muttering frantic apologies. Kise chuckles and reaches up, laying his slightly stickier hand over Midorima's shaking one. The backs of Midorima's hands are so soft, a sharp contrast to the rough tape on every finger.

"It's okay," he says.

Midorima's hands still. He looks into Kise's eyes, their faces very close together. "That was—amazing," he says, so sincerely that it makes Kise's heart beat a little faster. "Thank you, Kise."

"Any time," Kise says, and pulls the handkerchief from Midorima's hands to finish wiping his face clean. When he's done, there's a heavy pause, and then his head turns to Akashi as if drawn by a magnet.

Akashi hasn't moved from his previous position—his back perfectly straight, his face perfectly calm—except for the tent that distorts the clean line of his shorts.

"Come here," he murmurs. "Crawl. Slowly."

The air in the room changes. Kise licks his lips, tasting a last trace of bitterness there—he couldn't have told you from who—and then slinks towards Akashi on his hands and knees, his hips and shoulderblades shifting with every step. He can feel everyone else's eyes on him, but it's Akashi's two-toned gaze that holds all of his attention.

Akashi pulls his shorts down as if he's offering Kise a gift. His hands reach out to cup Kise's face, waiting until Kise's mouth lolls open, before pulling him forward. Akashi's fingertips are hard from years of playing instruments, and Kise shivers as they skim across his cheeks to cup the back of his head. 

Kise does his best with just his mouth, his hands limp and sometimes twitching against his thighs. Akashi is hot in his mouth, smooth and heavy on his tongue, as he bobs his head and laps meekly at his frenulum. Akashi's breaths grow deeper, heavier. 

"You're tensing up too much," Akashi murmurs. "Relax your shoulders. Bring your hands up to brace against my thighs."

Kise whimpers and does as Akashi says. Akashi pulls him down onto him, slowly but inorexably, bit by bit until he's fully seated in Kise's mouth, until it's hard for Kise to breathe.

"You're hard, aren't you?" Akashi whispers. "Ryouta. Look at me."

Kise looks up and is transfixed by Akashi's slight smile and wide eyes. "You've already taken the others," he says. "Is it enough for you? Are you satisfied, Ryouta?"

He nudges a bit deeper into Kise's mouth, choking him on a high whine.

"Of course you aren't," he hisses. "You couldn't be until you had mine."

Kise's eyes are prickling with tears, but he doesn't dare to look away from Akashi's face. His jaw is already sore from the amount of work it's done today, and he moans when Akashi's hand curls around it, supporting it. The sound rings through the hush that's fallen across the rest of the room.

Kise barely notices. Transfixed by Akashi, he can't even remember that his teammates are still there, watching.

"Ryouta," Akashi purrs. "Touch yourself."

In moments Kise's shaking hand is fisted around his dick, his thumb smearing the wetness gathered at the tip. Akashi times his thrusts to Kise's strokes, his eyes flaring ruby and gold.

"Slow down," he whispers as Kise starts to get close, and Kise sobs, but obeys. "Relax. You're getting sloppy. You can do better than that."

Kise tips his head forward, the smooth column of his throat bared and vulnerable as Akashi pushes inside him. He can feel the pressure in his throat, the sudden absence of air. His hand squeezes around himself, terrified for a moment that he'll come before he's allowed to.

Akashi holds himself there, watching Kise struggle to stay still as the adrenaline in his body spikes from lack of oxygen, as the world starts to blur. Just when Kise thinks he can't take anymore, Akashi withdraws. Kise shudders with pleasure at the first gasp of air, and Akashi smiles.

Kise just lets himself go limp after that, letting Akashi use him however he wants, until his tongue feels too heavy to move well and his moans turn hoarse. He never takes his eyes off Akashi, begging with every fiber in his body to come, please just let him come. 

Akashi sees everything, of course.

"Slower," Akashi whispers. "Stroke over the head just once more. That should be enough for you to come, Ryouta."

Kise does as he's told and orgasm knocks him off his feet like a sudden ocean wave. His body spasms, his eyes roll back, his jaw goes slack as he paints his hand and his jersey with white. Akashi's thrusts speed up, driving himself into Kise's pliant mouth until he gasps and comes. 

Akashi lets him go and Kise slumps to the floor, trying to catch his breath. He doesn't feel satiated, adrenaline still sparking along his nerves to make him hyperaware. Kise feels like he just ran a marathon, and like he's amped up enough to run another one. He looks at the others and sees a similar jitteriness on their faces, their eyes wide. 

Akashi stands, the only one among them who looks unruffled. "We have ten minutes before the match starts. This was quite productive." He glances at Kise, still lying on his side on the floor. "Next time, we'll have to start a little earlier."

He leaves the room, and the only thought Kise can manage is, _Next time?_


End file.
